Batman: Dark Origins
by SolidSnakeSimulation
Summary: He's trained for this moment for 17 years since he left Gotham as a boy. He lost everything that night, and gained so much pain in return. In order to make Gotham a better place, he would have to become something else. something dark. Something dangerous. Something deadly. Bruce Wayne is the hero that Gotham Needs. He is the shadow in the darkest of night. He Is The Batman.
1. Introduction

"I… I can't do it. I'm not strong enough yet…" The young man whispered. He breathed heavily as his knuckles bled. He pulled himself up from the floor and gazed at the image in the mirror. What he saw was not a man. It wasn't even a monster. What Bruce Wayne saw in the shattered mirror… was nothing more than a broken soul.

The news was all over him, and the woman tried their best to court him. And of course out in public he played along. But in here, in this dark manor in which he and his only companion stayed in seclusion from the rest of the city… he could be alone.

His black hair was hanging loose across his face, dangling in front of his piercing brown eyes that were so dark they almost looked pitch black. His chiseled jaw was tight… and a single tear fell from his eyes. Just this once. Just this once he would allow a small once of pain to leave his body. The rest… the rest he would remember. The rest he would keep inside of his heart for the rest of his broken life. And as the sun set down on Gotham City, he stood up and watched in anticipation.

"What a life this will be…"

:BATMAN:

Dark Origins

"Gotham City needs this…" Bruce whispered to himself. He brought his bloodied hand to the window, gazing at his distraught city.

"I… need this…"


	2. Ch 1: What Really Gets Under Their Skin

**CHAPTER ONE**

**_What Really Gets Under Their Skin…_**

* * *

_I need this…_ Bruce thought to himself as he watched the thugs gather for their 'secret' deal. There was plenty wrong with Gotham. Drugs was just a small step in a crime filled box, including robbery, murder, and human trafficking. All that would end. If it took ten days, ten years, or Bruce's last breath… it would end.

The suit he wore was nothing short of a mess. He managed to find himself a sturdy enough hoody to cover his face while moving freely. Some makeup applied to the face, a change of skin completion, and contacts to make his eyes brown instead of blue, is all it took to become a new man. No one would recognize him to be the billionaire playboy who lost both his parents at a young age, vanished for several years, and is the soul inheritor to Wayne Enterprises.

"Dealing went well today. Few more rounds and we're in business." The thug on the right said. He had white hair slicked back in a bandana. His friend on the left was blonde, younger than the other one. New to the field he joined. It looked like he was still learning the ropes.

_Not too crowded. I can easily slip behind them, take them both out without any trouble at all… but…_

Bruce looked around. The entire warehouse was dark. Too dark to really see anything that could be hiding in the corners of this makeshift business meeting. For all he knew, there could be a group of armed men hiding in the shadows. Waiting for him. Watching his every move.

He decided to take a leap of faith. There was nothing to break his fall or slow his decent, so he landed hard on the ground behind a few boxes of whatever these guys cooked. Somehow they didn't hear him, so he quickly made his way around the boxes, keeping to the shadows.

"We keep this up, Black Mask will HAVE to request a cut." The younger thug said. The more experienced one shook his head.

"Nah, you're getting it all wrong. We don't want Black Mask to take our cut. What we wanna do is send a message. Make sure he knows he's not the only one who can run crime in this city."

_They're tainted. I knew this city was bad before, but now I see it clearly. I've got work to do…_ Bruce whispered. Suddenly, there was a clatter from behind the boxes. Bruce's leg knocked down a loose crowbar. The noise echoed throughout the warehouse and immediately the crooks pulled out a pair of Mac-10 machine pistols.

"Who's there!?"

"Don't ask questions! Just shoot!"

Bruce jumped over the boxes, moving as fast as he could to avoid being shot. A bullet grazed his leg, but he kept moving. He threw the crowbar he had dropped, landing a solid hit at the younger thug. The white haired crook picked up his partners machine pistol and emptied the clips at Bruce. Another bullet grazed his arm.

"RRAAHH!" Bruce shouted in agony as he kicked the box he was hiding behind. It slid hard across the floor and right into the shooter. Bruce followed up with a hard uppercut and a kick to the chest. The man's ribs shattered, and he coughed up blood all over Bruce.

"Your drug games… are over…" Bruce whispered as he breathed heavily. The white haired thug couldn't speak, but there was another. The young man. He stood up, crowbar in hand, and knocked Bruce right on his back.

"I'm not scared of you, you fucking creep!" he shouted. Bruce's vision blurred with each hit. He had a few seconds before he wouldn't be able to block anymore. He waited. Instead of running on his gut, he analyzed his opponent's movements. There was a 2 and a half second interval between the raise of his hand and the speed of the strike. Moving immediately after being hit, Bruce would be able to grab the crowbar and use the momentum of his attacker… to his advantage. And so he did.

As the crowbar lifted, preparing for another strike, Bruce grabbed the crowbar and pulled, forcing his attacker to fall face first into the ground. At last… they were both out cold.

"Amateur… Fucking amateur…" Bruce whispered to himself. He had trained for a number of years. All for this. And this was the outcome. A man in a hood, bleeding from his arm and leg, while struggling to take down two crooks. Amateur. He still had a lot to learn.

* * *

+ The Next Morning +

* * *

"This is Vikki Vale with Gotham News. We're coming to you live from Old Gotham where just across the ocean on that small island is Arkham Asylum, the secluded prison for out of control, mentally insane, and dangerous criminals and lunatics alike. Last night, one of its prisoners, a Mr. Victor Zsasz, escaped. Commissioner, do you have any more information on this event?" The news was all over the place, taking every picture they could. It was an occupation really – making the Gotham City Police Department look like the bad guys. Well… some of them were.

On the other side of town, an already recovering Bruce Wayne was at the bank. When you go missing for 15 years, people start to wonder if you're really who you say you are. In a way, the Bruce Wayne that everyone knew as a small child was no more. Maybe on the outside. But inside was something much more broken.

"Have you ever been convicted of any of the crime listed below, Mr. Wayne?" the woman asked. Bruce sighed and shook his head as he checked off the appropriate answer, and signed beside the X. After about two hours of this he was finally let out with all the appropriate documentation, and even more money left behind from Waynetech.

One of the disadvantaged of being gone for so long was that there were no more people to drive him around except for Alfred. But he didn't want to face Alfred just yet. Not after the embarrassment he presented to him last night. So, Bruce Wayne resorted to walking and taking cabs.

"NO! LET GO! PLEASE! SOMEONE HELP!" A woman shouted from an alleyway not too far from where he was. It didn't take any hesitation at all for Bruce to follow the screams. Even in his business suit, there was no excuse to ignore a cry for help. He turned the corner to find a shirtless man holding a woman from behind, a rusted knife at her throat.

"Stop right there!" Bruce shouted. He ran towards the two, but stopped when he saw the liquid crimson dripping from the girls neck. A small cut. A threat.

"Eeheheheheheheheheee…. Eeeeeheheheheee. One more step, and she dies again! I won't go back to Arkham. This…. This is where I belong…" the man said. Bruce noticed the incredible amount of self-inflicted cuts all over the man. Older scars from years ago, and newer ones that were… still bleeding. It was him. It was Victor Zsasz, murderer, psychotic killer, and escaped prisoner from Arkham Asylum.

"Now just clam down, there's no need for any of this." Bruce tried to reason as he thought of a plan for attack.

"H-h-h-heeeeeeey. I know you. You're that preppy rich kid, Bruce Wayne. Wayne…. Of the Wayne family…. Eeehehehehee."

"You know me?"

"I hate you…" Zsasz said as he brought the knife up, pointing it at Bruce. Everything that happened after that went by… too fast. In Bruce's eyes, Zsasz seemed to be moving in slow motion. Even so, he couldn't do anything to stop him from what he did. So, Bruce watched as the rusted knife slowly stripped the flesh from the woman's neck. As he slit her throat, he pulled her head back, making the wound open wider. Blood sprayed from the cut. All the while, Zsasz was shouting "I hate you, I hate you, I hate you" back to back, without even taking a breath between the words.

Her body fell limp. Zsasz dashed forward. Bruce's eyes didn't even follow him. They were locked on the girl. They were locked on his failure. He didn't even notice the knife that was sticking out of his shoulder. It was Zsasz tackling him to the ground that woke him up.

"Do you know what really gets to people, Bruce. Do you want to know what really… get under their skin…?" Zsasz said as he brought the knife to Bruce's chest. He leaned in to whisper in Bruce's ear. And as he grew closer and closer, the knife went deeper and deeper into his chest.

"It's… fear… EEEHEHEHEHEEEEE!" Everything went black after that. In the darkness, Bruce's thoughts were clouded with fear. All the things he feared rushed in his mind. When he was a boy, and fell into the home of hundreds of thousands of bats. Surrounded by darkness. That was his fear. Death. Death in the family death of his closest friend Alfred. That was his fear. The fall… of Gotham City. Not being able to change it. Not being able to purify and save this great city. That… was his fear.

In that moment. That short moment where he opened his eyes and saw the lights from the ambulance. And beside him was a stretcher with the dead girl in it. In that moment… Bruce realized all of his fears… and got rid of them all.

_I will not let this happen ever again. Zsasz… I'm coming for you…_ He thought to himself.

* * *

+ Wayne Manor +

* * *

Alfred was brewing a nice hot pot of tea for Bruce. After everything he's been through, it was always nice to have a cup of tea. And seeing Bruce actually drink and eat always put his mind at ease.

"Master Bruce, I do implore you to come up and drink your tea. It's only been a few days since you were uh… injured. Might I ask, exactly how these injuries occurred?" Alfred said. Bruce came down the stairs sluggishly.

"I told you. I was attacked by that lunatic that escaped from Arkham." Bruce said as he sat down.

"Yes, but what of the other ones I had to stitch up. I'm quite sure the city hasn't already started to hate. And I'm quite sure you're not in any relationship with any lady or gentleman." Alfred sat across from Bruce, sipping at his tea joyfully. Bruce glanced at him, and then down to the newspaper that was already opened on the table.

"How would you know? Maybe I needed to work out some kinks now that I'm back in the world of the living."

"Ah yes, how would I know? I'm just a humble butler. It's not as if I haven't helped your mother and father raise you since you were in diapers. It's not as If I haven't seen you bruised up before. Remember, when you were 6." Alfred smiled as he remembered a Bruce with a black eye walking in from school. Bruce smiled.

"Yes. That was the day you taught me that not everything could be solved with brute force."

"I may have said that, but that doesn't mean you should go out getting stabbed every night, Master Bruce. Mmm, this is quite delicious."

Bruce looked at Alfred. He had been around for a long time. Alfred was always great to have around. And Bruce always thought of him like a father figure. Especially when both his parents died. Alfred was always there for him. Ever since day one. And that's why…

"Alfred…?"

"Yes, Master Bruce?"

"There's something I want to show you. Something I've been working on ever since I got back to Gotham." Bruce said. Alfred raised a brow, assuming the worst no doubt. Bruce got up from the table and led Alfred to the garage. Inside, there were two new cars. A Lamborghini and a McLaren.

"Ah, I see you've already taken the liberty of wasting your money on toys." Alfred said. Bruce just continued walking until he reached a control panel hidden in the wall. A retinal scan and hand print only activated. It was the full body, blood, and DNA scan that revealed what was underneath everything. The floor began to open, turning the cars vertically and providing a wide space. The lights dimmed. Every door locked automatically. And walkway lights appeared on the ground, gently glowing the ground that led underneath Wayne Manor.

"I see you've made some slight renovations."

"There's more…" Bruce said.

"Isn't there always?" Alfred teased. He followed Bruce down into the darkness. And the walk through the shadows lasted at least a minute. But eventually they came to a large opening. It seemed like there was nothing there until Bruce stepped forward and the lights came on. It revealed what Bruce Wayne had been using his money for in the month that he has been back.

"Ah. I guess this explains the extensively high electric bill I've been sent." Alfred said. Bruce continued down the path he created. Spotlights all over the cave revealed a line of super computers. A prototype vehicle design. And finally, a suit. A suit that would become much more than just a disguise. It was a suit that would become… a symbol.

* * *

+ Midnight. Old Gotham +

* * *

Darkness followed him where he ran. He no longer feared what learned in the shadows. He adopted it. It guided him across the rooftops and along the sides of the towering building. His eyes were a pale white in the pitch black of the night. But he welcomed it. On this night, he had one target and one target alone.

There were many places where a mad man like Victor Zsasz could hide, but the creature that stalked him in the night knew all too well where he would hide out. He needed someplace dark, someplace secluded. He also needed sharp objects nearby. He wouldn't be able to survive off of that one rusted knife for long. He needed pure steel. He needed a place where he could hurt himself.

Bruce made his way to the old abandoned warehouse by Crime Alley. It was a well-known place to the scum that roamed the streets of Gotham. No one ever went there though, because they knew of the horrors that happened in there. Not only murders, but immeasurable amounts of torture and rape. It was the perfect place for Zsasz to hide away until he got the erg to kill again. But Bruce wouldn't let it get that far.

"One, two, three, four… Never let them out the door. Kill the bitch before the runs… kill them all, it's lots of fun… Eehehehee. Mine… all mine. I won't let those zombies suffer any longer." Zsasz spoke to himself. Suddenly, a shadow appeared in the remnant of the moonlight that came in through the cracks and busted windows of the warehouse.

"W-w-what? Who's there!?" Zsasz shouted out, pointing his two knives at the light. Another shadow sped across the floor.

"I see I have company. I will strip the flesh from your bones. I will bear the mark. You will be my newest! My greatest!" Zsasz shouted as he brought one of the knives to his wrist and cut.

"Victor Zsasz. You killing ends tonight." The voice was deep. Dark. Intimidating. It echoed from all over, piercing deep into Zsasz, reminding him of a feeling he thought he'd never feel again.

"Do you feel it Zsasz! You know what's coming!" the voice shouted. The room almost seemed to vibrate like an earthquake. Then he saw it. The demon that was watching him. The monster that was lurking in the darkness. It's eyes glowed a pale white, it looked to have fangs, muscles the size of human bodies. He stood at least eight feet tall.

"S-s-stay away from me!? What are you!?" Zsasz shouted. In his eyes he saw a monster. But in actuality, it was the being that Bruce Wayne had chosen to become.

"It's over for you, Zsasz." Bruce said. Zsasz dashed forward, almost catching Bruce off guard, but Bruce grabbed his wrist and twisted it, forcing the knife out of his hand. He brought his fist up to Zsasz's gut hard, cracking a rib. But not even that could stop the maniac from trying to swing the remaining knife he had in his hand.

"I'll kill you, beast! I'll destroy you!" he shouted. Bruce rolled to the side and side swiped his opponent's leg, knocking him down hard. Bruce stood over Zsasz now, towering over the helpless, insane man.

"Do you want to know what really gets to people, Zsasz. Do you want to know what really gets under their skin?"

"GET AWAY FROM ME!" Zsasz shouted. The beast punched him hard on the face, then once more in the chest, shattering two more ribs.

"It's… fear…" Bruce whispered.

* * *

+ Arkham Asylum +

* * *

"This is Vikki Vale with Gotham News, where just hours ago, Police found recent escape prisoner Victor Zsasz basically gift rapped for them to take back into custody. Late last night, detectives say a flare went off, illuminating the entire sky towards what turned out to be a warehouse. Inside was Zsasz, brutally beaten, but still very much alive. Witnesses say that they saw a flying creature at the scene. Some say it took the shape of a large bat and flew off into the sky. Whatever their story, Victor Zsasz is back, and seems to be back in Arkham... for good. We'll bring you more details later on this evening."

"I see you were out galavanting late last night. How was your little trip?" Alfred asked Bruce. Or at least he thought he was. When he turned around, he saw Bruce sleeping on the table, breakfast not even touched, snoring like there was no tomorrow.

"I see. Well, at least you're getting some sleep." Alfred said. He walked over to Bruce and helped him up from the table. The struggled to get up the stairs, but Alfred was surprisingly strong.

"Master Bruce, i promise your mother and father that i would take care of you. and I intend to uphold that promise to the greatest of my ability. And as much as I do not like the idea of you going out in the late hours of the night to fight crime, i do agree with you that this city has it's fair share of red. Too much red." Alfred gently let Bruce down on his bed and tucked him in as if he were a child.

"However. If there was anyone out there trying to protecting Gotham, I would prefer it to be you over anyone else, Master Bruce..."


	3. CH 2: Making A Name For Yourself

O

Making A Name For Yourself

Two weeks had passed since The Batman had taken down Zsasz. A lot of people still thought that this talk of a creature taking out criminals and setting things right in Gotham was wrong, but people were also started to see what a different The Batman was making. In such a short amount of time, Crime had already gone down by 2%. It may not seem like a lot, but it was good enough to send a message for now. But Bruce had to do more. Things outside of the suit and outside of the night. Things that only Bruce Wayne could do… not The Batman.

Already, Bruce had made a generous donations to the Orphanage over at Gotham Central. He knew the pain that came with being alone, so he would not let anything shut that place down. They all got new clothes, new furniture, new piping and water lining. Even new toys.

"Master Bruce, your ride is waiting for you. And by your ride, I mean I am waiting to drive you." Alfred said as he held the door open for Bruce. He smiled at the old man.

"Thank you, Alfred." Bruce said. He jogged over to the car. It looked like it was going to rain later on in the evening, so Alfred grabbed an umbrella for Bruce. Sometimes it was like taking care of a child. A good child. Innocent. Until the sun went down.

"So what's the plan for today, Master Bruce?" Alfred asked as he turned the car on. Bruce was cycling through the papers inside the his folder. His first project would be to look into politicians that he could entrust Gotham too. It would take more than a couple million dollars and a man in a bat suit to change this city. It would take time, patience, resources, and more importantly… assets and allies.

"What do you make of Commissioner Gordon? Looking at his files, he seems like one of the only honest cops in Gotham. Resourceful. Has a keen detective mind." Bruce said. Having a cop on The Batman's side would come in handy. It was more than likely that the police force would be after him at some point in time. Anyone with a mask was usually branded as trouble.

"Seems to be a fine fellow. He's got a wife and a child on the way to my understanding. Was just promoted to commissioner not too long ago. Has been doing a good job so far in my opinion."

"That's good." Bruce said. He flipped through the papers some more. He came across many names. Chesterfield. Cobblepot. Mason. Many didn't matter, some didn't qualify. But someone did catch his eye.

"Harvey Dent. In the running to becoming the new District Attorney of Gotham City I see. Went to a prestigious college. He's got all his ducks in a row. I think he'd be a good candidate. Gotham's white knight. There's only so much that I can do alone. I'll need a friend in the daylight." Bruce said.

"You seem to have a lot of this planned out." Alfred said. Bruce simply nodded as he read more on Harvey Dent. It took a while, but eventually they arrived at their destination. A large corporate looking place. Only one floor, but decorated for fit kings and nobles. There was nice, classical music coming from inside. Along with guests all over, with food and drink displayed beautifully.

"I didn't know you were attending a party today. Who's hosting?" Alfred asked. Bruce smiled as he got out of the car and fixed his tie.

"I am." Bruce said. He walked into the party and everyone cheered. He was being greeted by the wealthiest people in Gotham. If he wanted to be a part of the city again, he would need to fit in to the crowd he was associated with, even if they were corrupt. They would get theirs in due time.

Not everyone was bad though. There were a few good faces. Bruce mingled through the crowds, talking to all sorts of characters. There was Mrs. Gallant, a nurse working inside of Arkham. She told stories about the patients there. Some funny. Some horrifying. Then there was Mr. Derek Shore, a foreign man who specialized in business communications.

There were a lot of faces. But the one face that everyone wanted to see the whole night was Bruce Wayne's. He walked through the crowds, smiling and waving while tasting the fine wine. At some point he made his way to the top of the stairs. He raised his drink and everyone else did as well.

"I'd like to thank you all for coming out tonight. I really appreciate you all welcoming me back into the community with open arms." Bruce said. Everyone cheered, clapped, and most of the women in the room giggled sweetly.

"I'm sure you've all heard about my donations to Gotham Central's Orphanage. I'm proud to say that this is just the first of many things I'm going to be doing for this city. I'm back home, where I belong. And I want to make Gotham a better place for our great people." Bruce said. The crowd applauded loudly and raised their glasses to Bruce. He stepped down, shaking more hands and greeting more people.

"Ah, If it isn't Bruce Wayne, man of the hour." Came a voice from behind Bruce. He turned and was met with an inspiring figure. Blonde hair, chiseled chin, bright shining teeth, and a smile that anyone would trust, and his eyes were as blue as the sky.

"Harvey Dent." Bruce said.

"You've been making quite a name for yourself, huh?" Harvey said.

"Yeah well. I like to give back to the community that helped mold me into the man that I am now. Hey, I'm not the only one who's coming up in the world. I hear you're running for District Attorney. How's that working out for you?"

"Between you and me, I think I've got this election in the bag. The people of Gotham support me. I was born and raised here. I know these streets and alleyways just as much as the next guy. I know what this city needs. It needs people like us Bruce. People who are prepared to do what's necessary to change, not just this city, but the world." Harvey said. Bruce looked around and saw a lot of people with _I believe in Harvey Dent_ buttons and stickers. It was good that the people of Gotham had someone to look up to.

"Hey, it would be great if you and I could collaborate on some projects. I already have a lot of recreational plans going on. If I get DA, I'll definitely have the authority to bring in outside sources." Dent explained.

"Hmm… that'd be alright, Harvey. I'd be glad to help out in any way that I can." Bruce said. He had more than enough funds to take care of any projects Harvey threw his way.

"Great. Great. That's really great Bruce. Well uh, hey I've gotta get back to spreading the word and kissing woman's babies for good luck." Harvey said. He started to walk away but turned to face Bruce again.

"We're gonna change the world, you and I. I can feel it." He said. Bruce nodded, raising his drink slightly, and then allowing Dent to go on with his business.

It was then Bruce realized where he really was. He was standing at the center of this large crowd of people. He spoke to people, but he wasn't really engaged in any of their conversations. The real reason he came here was to speak to Harvey. Everything moved slowly around him as he breathed in. and out. In. and out again. Then… he saw her.

She was like nothing he had ever seen before. She had a mix of brown and blonde hair. Long. Beautiful. She had green eyes that locked onto him immediately. They were perfect. Pure. Innocent. Her lips curved with every ounce of lust imaginable.

It had been a while since he had seen anyone as beautiful as her. Her body was fit, curved in all the right places. She stood with confidence, attitude, passion. As she stared at Bruce, and he stared back at her, she knew that he wanted her. She smiled, and he smiled back. There was no point in hesitating anymore, so he started walking through the crowd and over to her.

"Hey… Hi. My name's-" Bruce said. He took this time to examine the details of her maroon dress. One strap, near perfect threading. A slit on the side to show her leg.

"I know who you are, Mr. Wayne." The girl said. She smirked at him as if he had just told her a joke. He just stood there, a bit confused.

"Everyone has been talking about you ever since you came back. Plus, no one here will shut up about you." She said. Bruce laughed off the awkwardness and leaned on the wall beside her.

"I see. I haven't seen you around before."

"Well, you have been gone for a year or two or… twelve. It's been a while, Mr. Wayne."

"Please, just Bruce." He said. She smiled and stepped off the wall. She started walking away but stopped when she got to the door. She turned and smiled once again at Bruce.

"Bruce…" she said. Without another word, she walked out of the party, and Bruce was left alone once more. He waited and waited. Didn't even grab a bite to eat. Eventually he was the last one in the hall except for the people cleaning up. The moon was in the sky, almost at the opportune moment to suit up. Finally Bruce took out his phone and dialed Alfred. He was ready to get back to work.

+ Outside Party Scene +

The scope was in perfect position for the shot. So many possibly ways to end his life, but this way was easier. It was clean, fast, simple… and it sent a message. Wasn't really his style, but for the amount of money being paid, he could let it slip.

The target indicator on his eye allowed him more accuracy than any human being. But his skills with a rifle is what gave the assassin the title he so proudly holds.

"Deadshot on location. Initiating kill shot… now"

+ Inside Party +

It was faint. It was almost invisible. But somehow, Bruce could spot the target laser hovering just over Harvey Dent's heart from across the room. He bolted into a sprint, there was barely any time to get there. He knew he wouldn't be able to avoid the gunshot completely, but he had to at least move Dent.

"Dent! Get down!" Bruce shouted. Dent turned to look at Bruce, but it was too late. The glass shattered, and the bullet flew right into Harvey Dent. He should have died, and he would have… but somehow Bruce had managed to move him far enough so that the bullet missed his heart. Even so, if he didn't get medical help soon, he would surely die.

"Aaahhh! Damn it!" Harvey shouted in pain. Bruce immediately applied pressure onto the gunshot wound. Mostly everyone ran out the building, a few called the police.

"Dent, I need you to calm down and breath slowly. Don't speak, just concentrate on breathing!" Bruce shouted. He could feel the blood flowing from the bullet hole, so he applied a bit more pressure. He made sure to keep both his head and Dent's head down. While he waited for the police, he scanned the area for whatever evidence he could track down. The window from which the bullet entered. And luckily there was a point of impact on the ground, which meant that the bullet wasn't stuck inside of Dent. Lucky for Bruce, a bit less lucky for Dent.

"Mr. Wayne. Who knew you'd be the one staying behind to help a politician." Dent mumbled under his breath. Bruce smirked.

"Things change, Mr. Dent. Now stop talking before you die."

**Later That Night…**

_~Master Bruce, are you sure this is a good idea? Breaking into a crime scene is quite illegal, last time I checked.~_

"So is attempted murder, Alfred. And you already know how to cops are in this city, especially towards Dent. They can't see this city being run by anyone else but Sharp. Bruce jumped from rooftop to rooftop, becoming nothing more than a shadow in the night. Police were already surrounding the area, so he would have to knock out the two that were on his rooftop.

"Crazy. Someone tried to kill that guy running for DA."

"Can't say I'm surprised."

"Wonder how he's doing now. Ten bucks says the hack doesn't make it."

Bruce listened in disgust at how the two cops spoke of Dent. They were right next to each other, so this would be an easy takedown. He slowly made his way behind them and grabbed them both by the neck, hard. Before they could say anything, he brought their heads down on the ground hard, knocking them out cold. Now, it was only a short jump into the building.

"Alfred, I'm in. send me the schematics on this building, and the one adjacent to the third window on the eastern side of this room."

_~Yes sir, one moment sir.~_

Bruce hadn't tested this technology out yet, but he figured now would be the perfect time to. He brought his finger up to the side of his cowl and slid his index across the button on the side of the eyes. A HUD appeared in his sight, and the room was suddenly illuminated with information. Length, width, and height of the structure. How old the woodwork was. Rate of decay, percentage of humidity in the air, even sound levels.

"Perfect…" Bruce whispered. He tapped the floor with his hand and a pulse went throughout the entire room. The place where the bullet hand hit the ground lit up like a Christmas tree, as well as the entry point on the broken window.

"Now let's see if you left anything behind." Bruce said. He analyzed the bullet hole by simply looking at it and scanning it. The HUD did the rest of the work. There was no physical bullet…

"No bullet… but there's an odd residue left behind in a circular formation, the usual imprint of a bullet left behind. Strange. It's almost like ash." Bruce said. He brought his hand up and slide it across the air. A bold orange line appeared from the bullet hole to the window, and then further out.

"By tracking the bullet trajectory, I can find where the shooter was parched, probably find more data there as well." Bruce said. The door to the room opened, and the police on his regular patrol scanned the room with his flashlight, but saw nothing out of the ordinary.

Bruce had already followed the bullet trail, it led not to the building across, or the building next to that one. No. After following, Bruce had finally found the water tower that the assassin has been laying… about six blocks out.

"Incredible…" Bruce whispered to himself. There was no trace of anything left behind, but there was something. He could make out where the assassin was laying, due to the slightly dryer part of the top of the water tower. He must've been there for a while, scouting the area. Alone, nonetheless.

"Alfred, The trace is dead. We've got ourselves a professional killer here." Bruce said.

**Three Days Later…**

"Bruce, I need to thank you for saving me that night. If you hadn't tried to push me out of the way, I don't think I would be here right now." Harvey Dent said. He was recovering in the hospital. All of his vitals seemed normal, no serious damage anymore.

"It was nothing Dent, I'm just glad you're alive." Bruce said as he poured some tea into Dent's cup. He slowly took a sip of the tea and then rested his head back onto his bed.

"Who do you think would want to kill you?" Bruce asked, trying his hardest to get whatever information he could. Dent laughed.

"Everyone, Mr. Wayne. Ah, don't worry about it. Leave the detective work to Gordon and his men. You should revel in your success. You're a hero." Dent said with a smile. He held out his hand to Bruce, and Bruce casually took it.

"If you need anything, please. Do not hesitate to give me a call, Bruce."

"Thank you for your kindness, Dent. I've got to get back to the mansion, work on some things. But I'll keep in touch." Bruce said. He got up from his seat and began to walk out, but Dent stopped him.

"Bruce wait!" Dent shouted. Bruce turned around slowly, and he could see the concerned look on Dent's face.

"Don't go looking into matters that you shouldn't be. I have a feeling that this attempt on my life was different. More controlled and organized."

"Harvey, I-"

"No Bruce. Look, you've been gone for a long time. You may think that Gotham hasn't changed at all, but you'd be wrong. The fact of the matter is, Gotham has changed a lot since you've been gone. It's gotten worse. Just… just be careful what you get into, Bruce. I have enough red on my ledger… I don't want anymore." Dent said. Bruce simply nodded and then made his way back out.

_~I assume this means you're giving up on this assassin?~_ Alfred said over the communications unit Bruce had in his ear.

"No. It means that Harvey knows something about this assassination attempt that he can't tell the police. But I'm not the police…"

+ Undisclosed Location +

This was not the end. It was nowhere near over. The assassin watched as the young man walked out of his office, took the stairs down to the main lobby of the hotel, and made his way cheerfully out to his war with a woman in one arm, and a briefcase in the other.

His name was Charles Dia. He worked in close proximity with a company called Titus, a recreational, environment purifying type company. The assassin grinned as he brought the man into his sight. His brought the rifle to his good eye, while his goggled eye measured the distance, wind speed, and precise measurements for a perfect killshot.

3…

….2…

….1….

The bullet left the chamber, and in a quick second or less it entered his heart. The man fell, the woman ran in fear, and $25,000 were transferred into private account.

"This is not the end, Gotham. It is nowhere near over." He whispered.


End file.
